Regular or decaf?

Even Stormtroopers get coffee breaks.

Mother of the Year

"Mom, I LOVE you!!! You bought me SpaghettiOs!!! You are the best mom I ever had. .... Hey! Why did you buy me SpaghettiOs?"

"I don't know. I must have been drunk."

Bumper Gawking ...

"Hey, honey ...  How was your trip to Maine?"

"It was GREAT! Ama and I played the license plate game. I saw Connecticut; Massachusetts; Vermont; and New Hampshire, which said 'Live Free or Die."

"Cool. What plate came from the farthest away?

"That would be Missouri. Ama saw that one. I thought she said misery, though. I was like ... 'We have a state called MISERY??!!'"

Where the weather suits his clothes ...

 

We are all doing our best, non-denominational rain dances in the hopes that we'll get enough of the wet stuff to keep our enormous rhododendron (that we relocated last fall) from shriveling up and dying as we try to keep from breaking the town's water ban. 

All of us, that is, except for The Champ, who is just as happy as happy can be that the grass crunches against his shoes instead of sploshing them with morning dew; which, in his estimation, creates a din of squeak so outrageous that it could make a nearly deaf mouse family go mad.

If there's good news in this dry spell it's that we don't have to mow the lawn as often and I don't have to haul his 40-inch, 33 lb. body across this field, dragging the bike behind us.

There's no such thing as a bad birthday party ...

 













As long as there is cake.

Grounded

So ... I forgot to do the annual shout-out heralding the arrival of the grand-dog-in-law, which is a movable holiday during which Jed's dad comes up from Louisiana with his trusty apprentice, Lulu D.Q., to perform slave labor give generously of his time and expertise.  Last time we celebrated the rebuilding the side porch and the insulating of the foundation. This time we're expecting to be blinded by the beauty of the front porch. ...

But I digress ...







The formal announcement of their arrival has usually gone something like this.

If you want to say it to yourself to get the full effect, it's kind of like a long, drawn out Long-Guyland-ese: "Lulu is in da HOWWWWWWSE!!"

It probably slipped my mind this year because Lulu -- no doubt under the influence of our own party animal -- has often NOT been in the house.

Today, in fact, there were two instances of dogs gone on walkabout: This morning a slipped collar allowed Lulu to roam the back seven, and this afternoon an unlatched gate allowed both dogs to take a romp around the neighborhood.

Thankfully some neighbors recognized them and were able (miraculously) to coax them home with a bowlful of kibble.

So  ... the dogs ARE in the house. But they can't come out to play.

They are SO grounded.

A working vacation

I'm fairly certain I had the "best play date ever" today, as a rather quiet, one-kid-after-camp-to-swim plan somehow -- through happenstance and emergency rescheduling -- morphed into an eight-kid pool party.

The best part happened after they'd finished with the pool, dried off, and started to tear apart the couch.

They wanted to build a clubhouse out of the cushions. Except the debris from our penchant for eating in the living room turned out to be a major obstacle that required remediation.

"Mom, can we use the vacuum cleaner?"

How could I say no to a gang of kids who wanted to do housework?

Now that he's five ...

He can make his own appetizers. ...

Without my help.

Though, I'd rather he put away his toys. ...

Without my help.

Small wonders

Picture the scene:

Pub, early dinner hour.

Kids, climbing the walls. Hungry. Tired. Antsy.

We ordered. Waited. The smalls talk us into playing a game of checkers.

Girls against the boys.

Boys win.

We eat. Chat. Then the smalls talk us into playing just one game of chess.

Boys against the girls.

After three moves, kids become disinterested.

Girl goes to ladies room.

Boy turns his attention to his fortune cookie dessert ...

asks for a quarter for the candy machine ...

then climbs the dad with his M & M gooey hands.

Dad makes a few errors.

Mom takes advantage.

And ends up winning.

For the first time. ...

Ever.

I need to write that word again.

In capital letters --

EVER!!! --

Because it will never happen again.

Unless he lets me win.

And he's not the type to let anyone win.





Ever.

One nation under ...

DOG.



That was essentially our theme for this year's People's Parade.

The kids took up the cause of The Kinderhook Dog Park as a last-minute parade float, and, with their dad's help, constructed a moving dog crate featuring Roosevelt (designed by Annabel) bringing up the front and the rear ...



 

as well as "Conmoto Roto Simoto" -- the puppy Silas designed -- who absolutely, positively looks NOTHING like a turtle! (What are you crazy?).





Of course we managed to get all the way to the parade lineup without a single splash of color from a patriotic palate. The red, white and blue garland you see was provided by a very nice person behind us in line. Someone who may or may not have been tipped off about our ignorance (pronounced ignore-ance) of the significance of Independence Day.

You know, because last year we paraded around as if it were Chinese New Year and handed out dragon cookies.

This year we hauled around a cardboard kennel and handed out dog biscuits.



 

I'd say by next year we'll have this thing down.

Best $5 I've spent this summer

Although I have a feeling I'm going to spend a small fortune in ping-pong balls.